


It Started With Bangers And Mash

by Fatlockandfeeding



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Domestic, M/M, Omega Verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-09
Updated: 2013-10-09
Packaged: 2017-12-28 22:47:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/997816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fatlockandfeeding/pseuds/Fatlockandfeeding
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim's been acting weird, and Sebastian is a bit oblivious. Warnings for omegaverse, Omega!Jim, Alpha!Sebastian, graphic sex and small amounts of violence. Also I guess it's porn with a little bit of plot? Thank you to my beta, Texturepresence, and I own none of this, Sherlock Holmes and the affiliated characters are the property of the BBC and Arthur Conan Doyle.</p><p>Written as a gift for Bewhoyouareasloudlyaspossible</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Started With Bangers And Mash

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bewhoyouareasloudlyaspossible](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=bewhoyouareasloudlyaspossible).



Sebastian barely noticed it at first, because living with Jim was...well, living with Jim. It was always weird. Sometimes his boss was most definitely his boss, harsh and cold and utterly disinterested in Sebastian at all; more given to looking at him like a piece of furniture than a person of interest. And then there were times when he’d get home and Jim had ordered takeaway, and would wordlessly hand Sebastian a beer, or a whiskey (Sebastian had had to Google Knappogue Castle 1951, and had nearly shit himself when he’d seen the price of the liquor he’d been shooting like nobody’s business), and they would watch crap telly together and laugh and joke until Jim passed out on the couch. Usually when that happened Sebastian would cover him with a blanket, and then stumble back to his own room, knowing full well that he was going to wake up in the morning with a hell of a headache. The long and short of it was, life with Jim was always up and down, and the Omega he worked for was always unpredictable, and so when Jim started behaving more strangely than usual, Sebastian thought nothing of it.  
  
It started with bangers and mash. That much he knew. One day Sebastian had arrived home from a hit, tired, sweaty and ready to eat a cow, and he found Jim doing something he’d never before seen the shorter man do. Cooking. Or, well, at least he was trying to cook. The kitchen was full of smoke and Sebastian coughed as he walked in, setting down the bag holding his rifle and opening a window.   
  
“Fucking hell,” he bit out, his eyes watering, “what the fuck are you playing at?”  
  
“Fuck off,” Jim snapped, not meeting Sebastian’s eyes as he dumped an oven dish of burned sausages into the sink, not even bothering to throw them away first, “just...shut the fuck up. Cunt.”  
  
Sebastian rolled his eyes and then made his way over to the sink, eyeing the burnt mess carefully. “Were you...trying to make dinner?” He would have been less surprised to have come home and been met with the sight of Jim skinning a small animal on the coffee table. That was normal, but this? This was…  
  
“You want me to show you how to make sausages?” Sebastian said, blinking down at the charred remains of what was probably once a fairly nice bit of meat.  
  
“No,” Jim snapped again, angrily turning off a burner, “just..sit down, we’re having fucking dinner.”  
  
Sebastian laughed, and then fished two beers out of the fridge, opening them both with his teeth and then handing one to Jim. “You sit down,” he said nonchalantly, “I’m making dinner.”  
  
Jim’s mouth fell open, and for a moment it looked like he was going to argue, but then he thought better of it, and angrily drank from his bottle of beer as he plopped himself down into a chair, glaring at Sebastian. “They’re fucking sausages,” he muttered, “they should be easy.”  
  
“They are,” Sebastian said, biting back his amusement as he walked over to the fridge and pulled out a fresh package of sausages, “you just don’t know how to bloody cook.”  
  
“Well it’s weird that you do,” Jim replied through a pout, “what sort of Alpha cooks?”  
  
“The sort who lived on his own for years, and didn’t have a limitless supply of money to buy takeaways with.” Sebastian pulled down a frying pan, and then set it on the hob, before peering gingerly into the other pot, breathing out a sigh of relief when he just saw plain old boiled potatoes. “These are fine,” he said, “we can still save the mash, yeah?”  
  
“I can boil fucking potatoes, you condescending prick,” Jim said, before standing up and taking the pot from Sebastian, draining it in the sink and then angrily slamming it down onto the counter. Then he grabbed the potato masher and began almost attacking the spuds, taking out all his aggression as Sebastian slid the sausages into the frying pan.   
  
“Jim,” Sebastian said a little hesitantly, “Jim…”  
  
“What?” Jim whirled around, his eyes wide and his jaw tight. Sebastian bit back another laugh.  
  
“Um...a stick of butter. And some milk. They’ll mash up easier and taste better. Might as well add some salt and pepper now too, yeah?”

 

Jim sucked in a deep breath, and then did as Sebastian said, every now and then sneaking curious glances over to the pan of meat Sebastian was tending to.  
  
“You didn’t add any oil,” he muttered casually, and Sebastian nodded.   
  
“Well yeah, it’s pork. It’s fatty enough on its own. Oil just makes them greasy, and you can set the pan on fire.” Sebastian’s eyes roamed over to the sink, where the oven pan of charred meat lay, and he suddenly realised how Jim had managed to fuck up the first round of sausages so royally. “You had the right idea, though,” he said lightly, attempting to break the ice, “sausages are better if you do them in the oven, but it’s quicker in a pan.” Jim said nothing, but he didn’t get angry, and so Sebastian took that as a good sign. “Chop an onion, if you like,” he said, “I can make gravy from the fat from these when they’re done.”  
  
It was tense, but eventually they managed to sit down to a fairly nice dinner, and even though Sebastian’s eyes were drooping, he managed two portions, groaning happily as he sopped up the last of his gravy with his mashed potatoes.  
  
“Thanks for this,” he said, and when he looked over at Jim his eyebrows rose, because the Omega was sitting at the table, plate barely touched, and...blushing? Okay, something funny was going on. “You er...alright, boss?”  
  
“Hmm?” Jim looked up, and then nodded curtly. “Yeah, I’m fine.” He stood up abruptly. “I’m going to bed, do the dishes before you go to sleep.”  
  
And with that he left Sebastian, left him sitting at the kitchen table, bewildered, exhausted, full to the max, and with a pile of dishes in the sink.

 

After that things got weirder. Jim would make him tea when he didn’t ask for it, or burn toast and hide it in the bin, and one night he even bought a bottle of wine, which he threw against the wall in frustration when Sebastian finally admitted he didn’t like wine, whether it cost one hundred pounds a bottle or no. Sebastian had yelled back at him that night, as he angrily swept up glass shards and scrubbed at the burgundy stains on the wall, telling Jim that if he was going to make a fucking mess he should at least be the one to clean it up, but Jim had only ignored him, and as usual, gone to bed before any of the clean up was done.

 

Of course things weren’t like that all the time, most of the time Jim was still Jim, cold and imposing and making plans, but then there came odd days, where Jim was still Jim, but he’d want to have a full business meeting in only his pants, and Sebastian would have to pointedly pick a spot on the wall and look at it the entire time, because he wasn’t a fucking monk, alright? He was a hot-blooded Alpha living with a gorgeous Omega (your boss, your /boss/, moron), and seeing Jim waltz around in his underwear didn’t exactly do /nothing/ for him, so sue him. But Jim was weird, Jim had no concept of personal space, and so Jim didn’t care if Sebastian wanted to shag him six ways to Sunday. And so the partially-clad business meeting continued, and Sebastian handled it. He was a sniper; he was an Alpha; he was Sebastian fucking Moran and there was nothing he couldn’t handle.  
  
And so when he woke up approximately three months after the bangers and mash incident with Jim Moriarty sitting on his chest, glaring down at him, Sebastian took a deep breath, and tried to handle it.  
  
“What are you doing, boss?”   
  
Suddenly Jim’s hand flew out and struck him across the face and Sebastian gasped, and had to use every ounce of his self-control not to put Jim on his back and beat him to a pulp.   
  
“Jesus fucking Christ, what the fuck was that for?”  
  
“Moron,” Jim hissed, digging his nails into Sebastian’s chest, “you’re a fucking moron and all of this is all your fucking fault!”  
  
Sebastian blinked, the last of his after-sleep haze leaving him gradually. “What...what’s my fucking fault? Jesus you’re out of your bloody mind!”

 

“Shut up,” Jim said angrily, wriggling a little on Sebastian’s chest, “don’t talk, you’ll ruin the moment.”  
  
Sebastian blinked and tried to sit up, but Jim’s firm hands pushed him back down. “Did I say you could move, Moran?”

 

Sebastian shook his head, and wetted his lips slightly with his tongue before speaking again. “So...still confused here. What’s my fault?”

 

“Of course you’re confused,” Jim murmured angrily, “you’re a fucking idiot. Just...shut up. Don’t say anything.”

 

Sebastian nodded. “Okay but -”

 

“Did I or did I not say shut up? All of this is bad enough without you fucking talking.”

 

“All of what?”

 

“This,” Jim hissed, gesturing at himself with both hands, all the while still straddling Sebastian’s chest, “all of this. Me.”  
  
Sebastian huffed and let his head drop back on the pillow. “You’re going to have to get a lot more fucking specific if you want me to get what you’re going on about.”  
  
Jim made a low growling noise in his throat, and then squirmed, his anger seeming to ebb into frustration. “This,” he said again, unhelpfully, “all this shit...you and your fucking Alpha hormones. I’ve been on suppressants for years, Sebastian, years. I’ve never had an Alpha turn my head before, not if I didn’t want it to be turned. I’ve never…” his lip curled in disgust, “I’ve never felt the urge to...cook and clean and prance around and present, and it’s all your fucking fault because being around you all the time drives me fucking crazy.”  
  
“You are fucking crazy,” Sebastian murmured, not sure of what else to say, because was Jim...had Jim been trying to seduce him? Was that what all this weird stuff about? The burned dinners and the tea and wine and partial dress and - oh. Moron. Sebastian really was a fucking moron. Because Jim had never acted like a normal Omega, and then one day he’d tried to make Sebastian dinner and since then… “Fuck,” Sebastian said, blinking up at Jim, “are you saying that you…”  
  
“Yes. No. It’s fucking hormones, alright? It’s being around you too long, and that’s all it is.” With that Jim started to move down and off Sebastian’s chest, eventually settling on the man’s boxered crotch and grinding down, moaning. “I just...ah...just need to get it out of my system.”  
  
Sebastian was hard as a rock almost immediately, and he growled, deeper and more forceful than Jim’s was, and then he surged up, grabbing Jim by the small of his back and mouthing at the man’s neck aggressively, nipping and biting and thrusting up into Jim’s clothed arse with every chance he got. “You getting wet?” he breathed out, a slight smirk forming on his lips, “You want my big Alpha cock inside of you?”

 

“Fuck...off,” Jim moaned, even as he ripped off the tee shirt he was wearing to expose his white, hairless chest, “you stupid fucking knothead.” He ground his hips down more, and then his fingers were scrabbling at Sebastian’s boxers, pulling and tugging until they were finally off, freeing his massive erection as he tossed the pants to one side. Sebastian grinned eagerly and then pulled at Jim’s pyjama bottoms, before hoisting the Omega up and putting him on his back, so that he could tug them off properly. Jim hissed and reached up, dragging his nails down Sebastian’s shoulders, which sent a shiver of hot pleasure/pain through the Alpha, and he bore down on Jim, grinding their erections together until the smaller man beneath him whimpered, which Sebastian took as a victory.   
  
“I’m going to fucking own you,” he growled out, and then he gasped when Jim half-moaned, half-screamed, and launched himself onto the Alpha, until he was sitting in Sebastian’s lap, and Sebastian could feel Jim’s lubrication on his thighs, the scent of their combined pheromones already filling the room. Sebastian grunted when Jim grabbed a handful of hair at the nape of his neck, and tugged his head back roughly; leaning in so close that when the Omega spoke again, Sebastian could feel his hot breath ghosting on his jaw.   
  
“You don’t own me,” Jim said, his voice low and sinister, “you will never own me, you stupid Alpha cunt. I am a fucking God, and you are an insect that I allow to live, do you understand me? Do you?”

Sebastian said nothing but nodded, his breath erratic and his cock harder than ever, straining against Jim’s arse. Jim smiled like a cat, and then he rose up, and God, he was wet. Wet and hot and ready, and Sebastian let out a strangled yelp when Jim impaled himself upon Sebastian so suddenly that it had to have hurt the Omega, lubrication or no.   
  
“Fuuuuck,” Jim moaned out, before starting to bounce up and down on Sebastian’s hard cock, moaning and writhing and sweating and clenching around Sebastian in such a delicious way that it made the sniper moan too, even as he reached around to grab Jim’s arse, digging his nails into the soft, white flesh he found there.   
  
“Yes,” Sebastian breathed out, thrusting up to meet Jim’s movements, “yes, you’re so fucking beautiful, God.” He gasped and reeled back when Jim struck him again, clean across the face and he growled and leaned forward, biting at the Omega’s collar bone hard enough to bruise.   
  
“Fucking cunt,” Jim gasped out, and then he grabbed one of Sebastian’s hands off his arse and put it between them on his cock, “make yourself useful and touch me, do something worthwhile, you useless -”

 

“Shut up,” Sebastian said, pumping Jim’s cock in time with his thrusts, “you talk too fucking much, Jim, shut the fuck up.” He went harder and faster, angling his thrusts until he found Jim’s prostate, and then suddenly the Omega was coming apart on top of him, moaning and wailing and spurting his meager fluids between the two of them, coating his own stomach and Sebastian’s. Sebastian let out a satisfied laugh, and then thrust into Jim a few more times, almost lazily, before groaning himself and emptying himself into Jim, leaning down to mouth at the man’s neck a little as he did so.   
  
When they were spent, he pulled Jim down onto his bed and sighed, wrapping himself around him and breathing as he nuzzled into the Omega’s neck, licking absently at the sweat that had accumulated there.

 

“So,” he said breathlessly, “got it out of your system?”

 

Jim rolled his eyes, and then flopped his head back onto Sebastian’s pillow. “It was alright,” he muttered, and Sebastian snorted.

 

“Whatever, Jim. Just go to sleep.”  
  
There was a pause.

 

“I’m only sleeping here because I’m tired.”

 

Sebastian nodded. “Fine.”

 

“And,” Jim continued, “if I ever make you dinner -”

 

“Try to make me dinner.”

 

“Shut up. Cunt. If I ever make you dinner, or buy you alcohol, or make you fucking tea, or maybe fuck you again, it’s because I want to, understood?”

 

Sebastian yawned and nodded. “Yes boss.”

 

“I’m not your fucking Omega.”

 

“Yes boss.”

 

“I’m still your employer, and I’ll rip your eyes out and feed them to you if you ever forget that.” Jim’s voice was filling with sleep, and Sebastian reached out and petted his hair with a heavy hand.

 

“Gotcha. Now shut the fuck up and go to sleep.”

 

There were a few moments of silence, and then Jim rolled over onto his side, his breathing eventually evening out until it was obvious he was asleep.

 

And Sebastian waited, and then when he was sure Jim was out, he rolled over and pulled the man close, breathing one word into the back of his neck.   
  
“Mine,” he whispered, barely loud enough to hear.  
  
Jim moaned and then shifted, and didn’t wake up.

 

“Yours,” the Omega agreed.

 


End file.
